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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28339929">Many, compiled, bad ideas.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowWeGotHere/pseuds/HowWeGotHere'>HowWeGotHere</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Welcome to Night Vale</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A “what if StrexCorp captured Cecil and Carlos and we completely ignored canon” AU, Canon Divergence, Captivity, Chap5 is where the death is, Dark, Drugging, I did a random TF and OC ship, I feel sorry for my own characters, I’m bad at writing tags, I’m not sure if this has a suicide trigger in it at Chap5., I’m really bad at writing WTNV, I’m still torn between a happy ending or not, M/M, Most of this doesn’t make much sense., Spoilers, Strexcorp, Strexcorp is Evil, Vague torture, Who Am I Kidding?, Yes I just copied most of your tags, and I’m blaming F4 for that., and i like it, but I’m not sure for what?, duh - Freeform, eh, good luck, sorry., thank you., very poetic at times</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:27:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,967</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28339929</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowWeGotHere/pseuds/HowWeGotHere</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A conclusion to<br/>‘I Can’t Control My Fingers, I Can’t Control My Brain.’<br/>By ErinPtah.</p><p>How to escape a StrexCorp facility.<br/>How to survive what comes after.</p><p>That’s this story.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Carlos/Cecil Palmer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Medtray</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErinPtah/gifts">ErinPtah</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is originally from the fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3666975<br/>Written by ErinPtah (though you would know that if you used the link). Thank you for giving me your blessing. Also, sorry for calling this Many, compiled, bad ideas.<br/>I’ll try to finish this quickly. But, it might take a while (moving). Anyway. Chapter 1 coming at ya!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There were some strange days that Lin had had lately. It had begun when StrexCorp forgot about her dosage for a day. Or they probably were just trying to wean her off it. But, they ‘forgot’ the dosage. Lin was okay with this. She loved acting. But there was a reason why she had been on such a massive dosage. This happened ages ago, five and a half months now. But it was the best place to start. She had one job. To follow the instructions on the paper given to her. Why they made her do it, instead of a machine that could do it much quicker and efficiently was a question she pondered often, but only lately had she been able to find conclusions. The instructions were a comprehensive list of things to do to a man. Or, more specifically, Cecil Palmer. Lin was surprisingly good at her job. Or she had been, back when she was still in a cloudy land of lies and fog. But that wasn’t her. The husk of a person who had controlled her body was not her. And Lin was now ready for a change. Lin was ready for rebellion.</p><p> </p><p>Cecil didn’t notice when he changed. Very few do. And most in that small, latter category, don’t try to resist, understanding. Cecil also doesn’t notice when she changes. But he does notice that Carlos doesn’t change. Carlos acts funny. Strange. He just can’t accept the way things are meant to be. And every time that the person in the suit, who would do workshops with him, would talk to him, he would leave knowing he had to get Carlos to cooperate. Or else. Cecil did notice when they both started messing with his drugs. The ones needed to take orally. The pills. The silent, nameless operative probably just delivered. They probably didn’t do anything. But Carlos was definitely sabotaging the med tray. And Cecil was itching to admit it. To tell someone. To let the Smiling God devour his worries and unwanted feelings. His love for Carlos was wavering, questionable. He was happy. Every day he had to convince himself, (or maybe just the StrexCorp thought implants) that he would not be happier without Carlos. Surely. </p><p> </p><p>Carlos is having a bad day. As in, re-education day. He doesn’t remember most of the week, can barely look down with wanting to vomit from the spinning that undermined his view. But he knew that all of this was a good sign. It meant he was resisting. It meant that he was alive. It meant that he remembered and felt. Cecil is trying to be comforting, but there’s something on his mind, Carlos can hear it in his voice. He only faintly remembers asking “What’s wrong?”. Cecil is silent. Carlos is worried. But then he feels the taps. He pushes through the painful haze that is eating away at him. He translates it to<br/>
WHY R U MESSING WITH OUR DOSAGE<br/>
His heart skips a beat, it was that obvious? He tapped back,<br/>
IM NOT<br/>
It’s an obvious and bad lie. Cecil is silent for a moment.<br/>
SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH THE WORKER<br/>
Carlos is confused. His silence probably explained the ambiguity of that sentence.<br/>
THE WORKSHOP WORKER NOT DOING WHAT USUALLY DO<br/>
It makes sense, but still doesn’t really. He taps out<br/>
WHAT DID THE WORKER USED TO DO<br/>
The sentence doesn’t make sense, but Cecil gets it, tapping back,<br/>
I CANT TELL U<br/>
He wants to press further, but then he feels Cecil slump a bit beside him, before feeling the pull of the sedatives himself. They lie together on the bed. </p><p> </p><p>Night Vale has not fallen. It’s getting dangerously close though. Tamika had to mange with kids being re-re-educated by StrexCorp and then re-re-re-educated, by the City Council and so on and so forth. Many are training for a war. She is too. But, she also has to make rescue plans for a bunch of Night Vale citizens that would be real damn useful now. She doesn’t know how they’re going to undo some of the Strex programming into people’s lives and minds. That’s all for later. But until then, she has two priorities. The War, and The Rescue. She is busy. And tired. She misses the days when she had more time to read. Her heavy necklace swings with every gesture. Out in the sand wastes, she spends all day working on drills and tactic. The rescue is next week. She shouldn’t be doing this. But she is. It started with a call to her. She cautiously answers. “Hello?” She calls. “Tamika.” The voice said, sounding like silk with an echo of onyx. “Yes.” She say, trying regain her confidence. “I can help you. Be at Mission Grove Park in 2 minutes and 43 seconds.” They said. Tamika got ready. For a talk? Or a fight? She didn’t know.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Truce</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Right. Soo... Okay. Anyway.. thanks again to ErinPtah. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Where a truce is made and hope is found.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lin was in charge of Cecil’s dosage. Not many people knew that. She was a good liar. She was supposed to give him 2 yellow pills and 4 olive pills. She started giving him two dark blue pills. No others. The only issue is, his roommate (or boyfriend) keeps taking them away, and replacing them with others. The dark blue pills helps improve, repair and increase cognitive ability. They are great at making people more productive at some jobs, but they, if taken enough, can fix most of what Strex has done to you. That day, she still burnt him with acid, like instructed. She still made him tell her that he praised the Smiling God. She still made him scream. But he was slowly understanding. Without drugs to control him, and with the light of the Smiling God still missing. She had some left over time from last year. She used it to take a drive to Mission Grove Park. She sat on a bench. A scowling child came her way. She smirked.</p>
<p>Today something happened. He was torn by what he should classify it with. Was it a good thing? A bad thing? The thin that had happened was namely, them taking away the StrexPilot. Which didn’t make any sense, because it would drastically reduce his productivity. The room seemed wrong without that, something for him to do. It had been a while since Carlos had asked him to trust him. Their tapping had become more frequent. He had kept going. No longer for Carlos. Instead, because he felt something was... wrong. Which was a strange feeling, because this was perfect StrexCorp, which never makes mistakes. So he assumed that they wanted him to be quiet about it. But there was something else, something that was nagging on him. He had fell this morning. The type of fall which involved booby-traps he should have long gotten used to. But when he fell, and hit his head, he frowned and said, or more muttered, “Masters of Us All, that hurts.” Carlos head snapped over to where he was lying on the floor, like he had been slapped. He flinched, a tell that he had been zapped by his Productivity Collar. But on his face, there was a ghost of a smile. He might have been bleeding from deliberately poorly stitched wounds, but at least Carlos was happy. </p>
<p>There was hope. That thought had wreaked havoc upon Carlos’ mind today. He had stopped tampering with the drugs. He still avoided taking his, but he knew, deep down, that he was too malnourished to survive the vicious withdrawal he had seen after taking them for long enough.<br/>But Cecil frowning? That would have made his day, no his week, alone. But the line ‘ Masters of Us All’... That was hope. True hope. And then there was the other thing that was wreaking havoc. The note he found on the digital whiteboard. It was written in Morse Code, but once he decoded it, it was obvious that it was not Cecil. It translated out into:<br/>PLS STOP STEALING CECILS BLUE PILLS. IM TRYING TO HELP. HELP IS COMING. WATCH OUT.<br/>What was any of that supposed to mean? He understood the start, but what was the ‘Watch Out’? Was it from Tamika? From someone else? Who? And then, there was the third thing that he refused to be fooled by. He had already let his hope rise to a dangerous level. But he had seen a flicker of colour in Cecil’s eyes. A hint of purple, before reverting back to black. When he had been asked by the StrexPilot, before they took it, on a survey, whether he had any younger relatives. Cecil had seemed confused and asked Carlos. Carlos had told him, no, and Cecil had dutifully tapped the ‘No.’ option. But his eyes had flickered. Maybe he would come out of his okay. Maybe he would... he wasn’t exactly sure, but he was planning to figure it out. That was what Science was. And despite it all, Carlos was a Scientist.</p>
<p>“Who are you?” Tamika asked the smirking woman. She stunk of chemicals. “Lin.” Right. Great answer ‘Lin’. Or, great question Tamika. “I’m the head of the chemistry department at StrexCorp.” She said. Tamika angled the knife she had been hiding, a weapon she hated, but she had suspected that it would be StrexCorp scum. It grazed her throat, which, unlike some others, was covered in scars. Lin laughed. “They will not survive Colan. Especially not.. him.” She said. “What do you mean, why are you here, and what do you want from me?” Tamika asked. “I take care of all Night Vale StrexCorp prisoners. Especially cases 3-1-23-12-15-19 and 3-5-3-9-12. I want your help. I’m going to help you.” She said. “Why would I trust you?” Tamika spat, knowing this was the best thing that could have happened to her in a long time. “Because currently I’m helping your friends.” She said. “And I miss my home.” She said. “What do you mean?” Tamika repeated, more exasperated than passionate. “I am Lin. I am the first and only child every abducted by the Yellow Helicopters.” Tamika dropped the knife. Or, just moved it away from Lin’s neck. “I heard about you.” She murmured. “Truce?” Lin asked. “Truce.” Tamika agreed.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading. <br/>Remember to tell me when and where I’ve screwed up!<br/>:)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Good luck.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So... I see that people have read this! Even if it’s only eight people! Thank you!<br/>(ErinPtah, as always...)<br/>Um, this is a train wreck. I’m sorry.</p><p>They have some good luck...<br/>They need some more..<br/>(Janice!)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lin had a meeting with Lauren today. It had been two weeks since the meeting. She turned over her own cryptic words with Tamika Flynn, who (thankfully?) had let her go unscathed. So her smile was present when she had arrived back from “business that would help increase her productivity with understanding the nature of interactions between conflicted and unhappy psyches and helpful supplements” both out of necessity and genuine happiness. She knew that the guy who reviewed the lab time-off papers would accept that, on the grounds that it “seemed appropriate”. It was funny, because she could be a Strex spy. She could do it. What she had said was true. She was, in fact, from Night Vale. It had been funny, the first time she remembered. Horrid the next. And she may have remembered it more, but now she knew. Again. But, that wasn’t her main concern. She had her office “undecorated” because she had said that the fumes would ruin the supplements. (Which was true, but it was mainly about, well, maybe not wanting to work in a room filled with all organs and limbs imaginable and a few unimaginable.) But there she was, sitting in a (very decorated) office that was the, well this sounds a tad overdramatic, but the base of Lauren Mallard. “Lin.” Lauren said. Her face was strange, in the manner that you could no longer see any of her scars, but the skin looked... just slightly off. They no longer addressed each other with formalities, and considering StrexCorp’s “We are just great to our employees and we encourage very positive work relationships” persona, it wasn’t that strange. But, also calling Miss Mallard “Lauren” had felt.... off-putting, to say the least. But she better get used to it, because if she couldn’t get this rebellion ready, she would be stuck giving weekly reports to this... monster forever. “Lauren.” She had responded, a second too late, realising that she had been caught in her thoughts. Lin pushed the folder over, shrinking away from that empty, ruthless gaze. “Here.” She murmured, now struggling to hold her smile up. Lauren flipped through the book, pausing at some points. But the way her eyes moved, it looked as if she had read the essay in a matter of seconds. “So, Lin.” Lauren drawled. Lin wanted to flinch, knowing that she was okay, that this drawl meant positive feedback. Usually. Or it meant something like... having your collar put back on, or watching your work get destroyed, or surgery, or the drugs, no, please not the drugs. “Your productivity has increased. So we are giving you a new task. We will put you back in your subjects’ room. You can do... your magic. The stuff that helped the rest.” Lauren said. “Which subject?” Lin asked, trying not to get her hopes up. “Subject 3-1-23-12-15-19 and 3-5-3-9-12.” Lauren said. And when Lin looked up, her smile was real.</p><p> </p><p>The woman was creepy. He recognised her, like your recognised a nightmare. She sat. She examined. She was just.. there. And, even though he knew from her clothes that she was a StrexCorp officer and was good for him, he still couldn’t find it in his heart to trust her. It was funny, because Carlos had finally started smiling. Which he would have been happy about, if he hadn’t looked so unhappy. It was his eyes, Cecil thought. And the way his hair flopped, as if finally defeated. He had asked the woman (or, at least it/she/he/they looked like a woman, he didn’t want to make any assumptions (it was a woman)) why the StrexPilot had been taken away. She had told him something about radiation, acid, human rights, rebellion, and counterproductive work. He had ignored most of it, and let his mind latch onto the words ‘counterproductive work’. He found it soothing, like a balm to his anxieties that he would have to do another workshop because he wasn’t meeting his quota. He recently realised that despite loving StrexCorp, and the Smiling God, and efficiency, he was terrified of the workshops. And he felt pangs of other feelings, which he began to crave, wanting to feel anything other than stifli- no, good happiness and the need to work, and work harder. The woman sat next to Carlos today. And some other days, but he wasn’t sure of the specifics. His memory was.. Anyway, but today especially she watched him like a hawk. Another thing that Cecil had found, with the pangs of feeling, was affection. Affection for Carlos, bordering on obsession. And, strangely enough, misplaced affection for his unproductive, resistant, amazing hometown. He stalled his thoughts. Where had the ‘amazing’ come from? He was lying on the small floor space, fidgeting slightly with his collar. Maybe he was homesick? He remembered someone. “Janice.” He whispered, so quietly, that even Carlos’ careful ears missed it. And he felt resolve. He was going to find out why he felt this way. What was going on?</p><p> </p><p>There was another note on the board. Carlos had snatched off, hoping that the sinister-seeming supervisor hadn’t seen it. He had taken a bathroom break, and translated it.<br/>
HELP IS COMING. WATCH OUT FOR A VID IN YOUR TIMETABLE.<br/>
What was that supposed to mean?! Why was everything so cryptic? Why? Carlos’ anguish turned into hopelessness. Even if Cecil remembered and was ‘awake’, he would just be changed again. And Carlos would give up if that happened. Unless, of course, he couldn’t remember it. He realised that there were a lot of gaps in his memory. Which was... alarming, to say the least. But he worked, his trickery and rebellion better every time. Cecil’s body seemed to get mended, notably his fingers, but, that was also alarming. How? He had been put on a robotics course, and he wondered why. Usually he would be able to come up with ideas, but his brain was.. increasingly foggy. It was a slow and painful process. Every morning it was harder to reach the conclusions needed to make correct answers, let alone sabotage. He was anxious about so many things, as if the possibilities were consuming him. But it was worse, because they weren’t. Most days, his thoughts were slow and dulled. He hated it. It was something to do with the new pills. They no longer gave him the sedative. He was so tired on his own by the end of the day. Something was seriously wrong around here, more wrong than usual. This was a very unscientific statement, but he could no longer find the adjectives required to make a good one. But that night when he went to bed, he remembered, as he was half asleep, that the supervisor did something to Cecil’s collar. He wanted to help, to fight, to make the person stop. But, he was too tired. The next day, as he sat at his desk, there was a video in his timetable. Just as promised.</p><p> </p><p>“So, this is what’s happened to them?” Tamika asked the others. Beatrice looked at her, ready to tell her something else coated in sarcasm. “Okay!” Tamika said, far too tired to hold an argument. She needed to save her energy for the day after tomorrow. It had been a bit over a week, and she had so far, received what had been negotiated. She replayed the footage. It started with hands, scarred shaky hands, setting up a camera. And then small clips, each with time stamps. Some with footage of Carlos, eyes closed, shaking from whatever they were doing or putting in him. Cecil having his eyes turn black. Some of ‘workshops’. Tamika marvelled at how he was still alive. But, Cecil had survived a lot, so it shouldn’t surprise her. (That didn’t take away from the fact that it did.) Bu the worst ones were the short ones of them in the cell, the undercooked-egg-yolk orange contrasting to them. Even with the jumpsuits. But some gave her hope. She sat cross-legged, reaching out to rewind it again. “Don’t.” Amaru said, touching her fingers lightly with his. “We get it.” Avery piped in. She dropped her hand, and stood up. “So, we need to do some planning.” She said, trying to sound like a leader. She did not sound like a leader. “Why? We already have it all planned out.” Malcolm said. “But what if she betrays us and then we have to deal with a Cecil who doesn’t want to leave?” She proposed. “Yeah, okay, we should do some more planning.” Beatrice said. The door opened. Everyone turned to see who the interloper was. “Don’t tell me that you can’t save my uncle.” Janice (thank the Brownstone Spire) said, compacting a considerable amount of badass into that small statement. She wheeled herself in. “I have an idea.” She said. “What?” Tamika asked, glad for someone else to help her with this, someone who didn’t expect her to always be as brave as she had been in the Summer Reading Program. “I was listening in, to see if you were desperate enough to need and accept my help.” She gave them a glare that said, ‘And you really did’. “But if you can pull it off, get one of us in there.” She said. “How?” Tamika asked. “Ever planned a heist?” Janice asked, with a grin like a predator.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Just in case you’re confused, I like to think that Janice and Cecil pulled off other heists before “The Registry of Middle School Crushes”. And, this is (by no means) canon, so, that’s what I meant at the end.</p><p>Also, there is a few time discrepancies that I did deliberately put in there, but I’m now wondering if they’re just plain annoying.<br/>Eh.<br/>Thank you!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. If we Live.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Some of this might not make chronological sense.<br/>Please point it out if it doesn’t.<br/>Also, I accidentally switched the positions of Cecil’s and Carlos’ perspectives. Oops.<br/>Umm.</p><p>Cecil is... more Cecil.<br/>Janice and Tamika arrive. (Sorry their bit is so tiny)<br/>Carlos and Lin.... :(.<br/>Also, Fey!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had taken a lot of effort to get that footage to Tamika. Even more to pull off this mysterious shit with Carlos. She pretended she hadn’t seen the note, that she had missed the footage. He had seemed pleased that she had screwed up like that. She was tired of pretending to screw up like that. It was a very fine line she was treading. But, so far, this was going good. She had finally completely disabled Cecil’s cursed Productivity Collar. Finally. She was actually rather proud of that. (StrexCorp had abducted her for a reason.) Lin had long put her collar on a.. sleep mode, to put it in an easy way to understand. But prisoners collars were different. Not more difficult, necessarily, but just, different. But she now had to worry about Carlos’ exhaustion. It was not a new thing, in fact, it was probably made off one of her own drugs she had made, back in the.... let’s not dance around it, back in the StrexCorp-Drone days. But it had never been properly stabilised, so it just drained your stamina away until there was nothing left instead of long-term paralysis. Actually, maybe they were lucky that it was not stable. Lauren had been (or she had seemed) satisfied with her output. She had submitted multiple folders filled with half-truths, late at night in their meetings, and she had done the cheery reminders to ‘Be more productive!’ and ‘Remember that your job is important! Very, very important to your friends, family and health.’ and ‘We like strong, happy, productive, smiling workers. We will help you become strong, happy productive, smiling workers. We will really help you to be your best selves. We really will.’ She would sit on the (blood-soaked, repugnant) chair (that had no cover, so it was merely sponge, of all things, underneath it) in Lauren’s office. She had noticed, as her senses had grown sharper, that it always smelt like smoke, which was strange, because StrexCorp rarely used fire. But she also liked the (flawed, faulty) plan that Tamika and her little posse had made up. Tomorrow was the supply bus. No one dared use the supply bus for their own (rebellious) uses because they would probably be killed by the fumes or be eaten by ravenous Strex Pets. So security was rather lax. If Tamika could get whoever it was in, then she could get them out. She had sent what they had requested (demanded). It was “mechanical stilts or like, whatever StrexCorp does to elevate chairs. We know that you probably do.” She was right, (about the chairs, not about many other things, but she was right about the chairs). She sat in the office, hating, not nausea because of the metallic, rotting stench of the decorations, but instead the absence of nausea from a long time living in an environment that smelt and looked exactly (or not exactly, no smoke) like this one. Lauren smiled, beamed at her, and she beamed back, knowing that it was necessary. She was cracking. Even if she was the best actor in the fricking world, she wouldn’t be able to.. perform like this forever. Everyday she would remember another atrocity that she had done or participated in. And to save those two, she was reminded every day of things she had done. Lauren said, cutting through her thoughts and the silence, “Considering you’re such a good employee, we’re going to try the new Collar on you! It’ll be put on tomorrow.” She stared her in eyes, as if asking her, daring her to refuse. “Okay?” She wanted to scream, to run, to dissent in any way, to escape, but none of that was going to happen. “Okay.” She said. She smiled. “Okay.”</p><p> </p><p>It was terrifying. That was the best word for this. The footage had been from according to the timestamp, from a few weeks ago. It was of them doing things to him, it looked like surgery. Electrocution. And probably a heap of drugs. And of what they did to Cecil... he couldn’t, wouldn’t describe it, instead he would let it fester in his mind. And according to the timestamps they had both being doing this for a long time, but neither could remember. And he was now pretty convinced they, or at least he, would die. With the supervisor, the collars and now this. They were screwed. At least Cecil seemed more like what he was. The supervisor didn’t do anything when he curled up in his chair. He felt the Productivity Collar zap him over and over, but he was exhausted and defeated. Finally he got back to work, he tapped at his spreadsheets and equations. He felt a dose of something enter his bloodstream. He was aware that this was probably the thing that was killing him, but he couldn’t do anything about it. He wished he was numb, or cheery, or he just didn’t know. He wished. Then there was a soft chime from his computer. It beeped, angry at the intruder. It went to a black screen. And numbers started appearing, accompanied by a soft voice. He recognised it from a broadcast of Cecil’s. It started singing, “I got the eye of the tiger, the fire, dancing through the fire because I am a champion.... Oh, and Carlos, she’s coming.” Then the whole thing ended. Cecil ran over. “Fey?!” He yelled. Carlos clutched his head in his hands. Who was ‘she’? Who was the mysterious note person? How did Fey hack his computer? Why wasn’t the supervisor doing anything? At least Cecil had recognised Fey as Fey, rather than an unnecessary distraction. At least Cecil was alive. The supervisor shook. What was she doing? He looked up, using some of his precious energy. She was crying. She was repeating, “I don’t want to go. I don’t want to go. Help. I don’t want to go. I don’t want to go. Help..” Then she was dragged out of the room by blank StrexDrones. There was blood, blood smeared in a half-moon, smiling shape. Yep, they were officially screwed. The he felt tapping. He scrambled to translate it.<br/>
I STILL TRUST STREX BUT THIS IS WRONG<br/>
LETS GET OUT OF HERE.<br/>
Ok, maybe not completely screwed.</p><p> </p><p>Cecil was worried about Carlos. And himself. Because that, this was wrong. The way that this unfolded was wrong. What had happened to the StrexCorp supervisor was wrong. His mind was flooded with the two contradicting opinions of StrexCorp is Perfect and Amazing, and No, This is Wrong, We Need To Get Out. And then Carlos sorta collapsed on his desk. It was not the same as the sedative. This was.. different. “Help!” He yelled, knowing there were cameras in here somewhere. He felt a pang of desperation, and anger. How dare they do this to his perfectly imperfect Carlos. That.. term.. Cecil hated the feeling of déjà vu. There was a StrexCorp promotional video playing on the computer, as so scheduled to do so. And it had footage of that same woman, the supervisor, very, very, very, burnt and with a shiny collar around her throat. “No. No. No!” He yelled. Carlos jerked, being injected with adrenaline, but something was wrong. How dare they, how dare they, how dare they. He clutched at his head, hating the conflict. His jumpsuit blurred beneath the tears in his eyes. What if Carlos was dead? What if he did die? Where had he recognised Fey from? Why? Suddenly he was voicing his thoughts. “Why? Why? Why?!” He repeated, trying and failing to think of a way to save Carlos, his Carlos. The door opened. It was Lauren, the smell of smoke. If she had appeared last week, he would have fallen head-over-heels to assist her, an executive of StrexCorp. But now he had other, many other things to think about. “Neither of you are needed at StrexCorp anymore.” She said, with a cold tone. “And you have proved that you are too costly to           re-educate. So you are being disposed of. With him.” She said. Her hands twitched. Her smile flickered. But Cecil was not examining any of this. He decided against bargaining with her. “Okay.” He said. “That word has sealed so many fates.” She chuckled. He went back to his (dodgy) attempts at CPR. “Please don’t die on me. Just as I came back to you, please come back to me.” He pleaded. The room was silent now, everything and everyone long gone, apart from them two. </p><p> </p><p>“I trust you.” Janice said, despite her face saying the opposite. “Right.” Tamika said, as they sat in the empty truck. They set up the technology. Tamika draped the coat over her. They looked at the truck StrexTablet.</p><p>I disabled the cameras. </p><p>But then underneath that was one from later.</p><p>I’m compromised. I’m sorry.<br/>
They got me.<br/>
Or will get me.</p><p>“I knew she wasn’t trustworthy.” Tamika said. “I think she was. This wasn’t her fault.” Janice said. “You ready for this?” Tamika asked. “No, not at all, but we can’t stop now.” Janice said. “Yeah.” Tamika said, as they arrived. “I know.”</p><p>Dun-dun-duuuuuun!</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you!<br/>Also, title is from Disparition’s song of the same name.<br/>Special thanks...<br/>You know who I’m talking to.<br/>As always..<br/>ErinPtah,<br/>Sorry,<br/>Tell me..<br/>And especially now, I’m sorry that this is so fast-paced.<br/>:)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The fridge leads to freedom P1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ok..<br/>It’s midnight, and I’m tired. I tried.<br/>So this is Lin’s part of Chapter 5.<br/>I’m sorry, well, not really.<br/>I need to sleep some nights.<br/>More should be coming.<br/>Bonus perspectives...<br/>Anyway.<br/>Yeah.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She was okay. Not actually okay, (well, depending on your definition of okay, then maybe), not by her books. But she was grateful that:<br/>
1: She wasn’t dead.<br/>
2: She wasn’t seriously injured (as far as she could tell).<br/>
3: She didn’t have permanent brain damage. (Again, only as far as she could tell).<br/>
4: She remembered who she was.<br/>
5: She didn’t worship a Smiling God.<br/>
Thank whoever or no one for that.<br/>
And she was only sitting in the hallway, hands with cuffs, no StrexDrones to stop her. She was burnt. She smelt, and was covered in blood and burnt flesh. She either had been injected with some really, really strong numbing agent, or her nerve endings had been burnt off. Either one was equally possible. She stood up, and she looked, honestly, a lot like the other people in the hall. All injured, scarred, covered in blood. She started to break the handcuffs that were made of glass. It was a very stupid idea for handcuffs. (Hey, Lin wasn’t the one who made it up!) She smiled when the shattered, the cracking sound satisfying to her tortured ears. Then she remembered, today was the day. Or, maybe it hadn’t been a day yet? Or maybe it had been weeks, or years. Maybe she had lived as a StrexCorp worker for years and now had snapped back to this? (She had seen that exact thing happen.) But she had to try to help, and if not, then she had to get the hell out here. She walked towards the cell as fast as she could without looking... strange. She might have had the whole ‘Look, I’m just like you, garish yellow/orange outfit, blood, and immense need to be on time and do more work’ look going on, but she knows that running through the StrexCorp halls is a action that is generally frowned upon. She is about to open the cell’s door when she hears a voice, a voice that on most days, would make her want to disappear. Lauren. “I’m impressed.” She said. “You fought us well. You put a lot of effort into such an unproductive idea.” She added, stepping closer until her (unnaturally cold) breath was chilling the back of Lin’s neck. “But soon, we’ll help you. The collar will finish soon. And then you will be happy again.” She said. “It was a bad idea from the beginning.” She chided. “Why do you wear that watch?” Lin blurted, wanting Lauren to shut up. Enough! She got it, she was officially doomed. But then her deflection grew into actual interest. Why did Lauren wear that watch? “It’s not a StrexCorp watch. It’s broken. It’s useless, unproductive. So why, would you of all people wear a watch like that? Why?” She said, turning around, and stepping closer, and closer towards her. “I used to watch clips of your re-education. You wouldn’t let us near it.” She added. “Why would you wear that watch?” She asked, staring at her like her eyes could drill a hole into her soul. “I-I..” Lauren stuttered, her face pale, her eyes terrified, and desperate, and sad, and angry, and destroyed. Her hands twitching. “You are a horrible person. A monster. A murderer. I am disgusted to be in the same universe as you.” Lin spat (the words, metaphorically) at Lauren, who promptly began to collapse. A while later, Lin would wonder if Lauren truly deserved that. If she was just more unlucky. But in the moment she strode off, into the cell. It was a disaster. The kid was overwhelmed (and obviously hadn’t been told enough, great work Tamika). Cecil was doing some weird shit. Carlos was... Lin wasn’t sure. Maybe he was dead? She didn’t particularly want to find out at this exact moment. “Right.” She said.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry.<br/>I mean.<br/>No one has said anything negative yet, it’s all in my head, not in reality.<br/>But,<br/>I don’t know.<br/>Goodnight ao3.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Haha I tried to post this, and I couldn’t, because where I am, it’s 31st, and ao3 is like, no, that hasn’t happened yet. Lmao.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The fridge leads to freedom P2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay.<br/>I was going to release a bunch of writing before I went away, but I mistimed where the wifi would crash, so I lost a bunch of my writing.<br/>And.. stuff.<br/>So, today, I used the only bit I had saved (this bit) and rewrote some of Chap5.<br/>Any suggestions for other bonus perspectives?<br/>Also...<br/>Yeah.<br/>So, this will be finished.</p><p>Cecil’s perspective (but it does get a bit Janice-y some times)<br/>So in the last one you got what happened to Lin in those moments. (? Time is weird.) This is what happened in the room at the same time.</p><p>I actually like this part of Chap5.<br/>Thank you.</p><p> </p><p>Ok.<br/>Goddamit, is it so hard to post a fic.<br/>This may be labelled as Chap6 but it is actually still Chap5.<br/>Same with the rest, until I say otherwise.<br/>Sorry.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Before Lin tries to fix up some chaos.</p><p>It had taken him a while to recognise her, which alarmed Janice, but he couldn’t see that. But when he did, it was very confusing and made the situation worse, from his point of view. This meant that if he couldn’t get them out of here, or if someone else could help, well then, they would both be in captivity. Great.</p><p>“Janice?!” He asked, used to his mind, eyes, and all other senses deceiving him. </p><p>She beamed, letting go of a breath. “Yep!” She said, wobbling awkwardly on the poorly balanced chair. </p><p>“How are you here? Why are you here? Are you okay?” He asked, looking for visible injuries. He was still slightly confused at who she was, but he remembered enough.<br/>
“I’m fine, and I’m here to help.” She said, before looking suspicious, or poorly trying to conceal suspicion that was a by-product of anxiety. </p><p>“Wait, Tamika said to do test if you had enough memory to come with me.” She held out his phone, cracked with the cover dyed from the bloodstains. She carefully avoided the needles that stuck out of the phone and took it to his calls and voicemails. She showed him a screen filled with voicemails from Steve Carlsberg. She tried not to giggle. He looked enraged, before yelling “Steve! I TOLD YOU NOT TO LEAVE ME VOICEMAILS! ARGH!” Before she started full-on laughing, almost knocking over her chair, the machine underneath creaking in dismay. She also rolled her eyes, and said, “Yep, my Uncle Cecil. Even StrexCorp couldn’t erase his anger at my dad.” </p><p>He looked at her, his eyes a mix of joy, and desperation. In fact, Cecil was really, really tired of feeling desperate. “I’m here to help get you and Uncle Carlos get out of here.” She said, motioning wildly at nothing. (Side note, Cecil really loved how she had already accepted Carlos as her uncle.) “Well, we may have a problem there.” He said, gesturing at the unconscious Carlos on the floor. </p><p>She had no idea where the plan was supposed to go other than get them out of this room. Together. So this, this was definitely an issue. She believed that Tamika had wanted to keep her out of planning so she wouldn’t end up doing anything extra. It had, in fact led to this. He looked at her, her face screwed up in concentration. And then the fire alarm went off, or.. not really, only the light. (Also, only in their cell, but neither of them knew that.) “Signal?” He asked. “I.. I think so.”  He sighed, then he started to start an impromptu ritual. Janice sat, trying to figure out a what, when, how for this plan. “How do you pretend to be a supervisor? The other one was pretty creepy.” He asked, pausing his ritual. “She was one of us.” Janice mumbled, her thoughts racing wildly. Why did Tamika do this to her? “Oh.” He said, then continued with his set-up.</p><p>Then a collared, annoyed, tired, burnt and disappointed Lin came in. “Right.” She said.<br/>
Then Janice’s wheelchair crashed through the device holding her up. And that, was what roused Carlos from his deathly unconscious state.</p><p>And then Cecil shared a thought with Lin. </p><p>This is a disaster.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Also, due to demand.<br/>(Yes, demand, F4.)<br/>I wrote this in smaller paragraphs.<br/>The reason why I usually don’t do this is because often I alternate with perspectives, so it makes it really confusing.<br/>(I just read over that and it sounds really condescending. Sorry if you felt that too. I’m not changing it because maybe it’s just me.)<br/>Also ao3 hates my italics, so I gave up on those.<br/>As always.<br/>The usual.<br/>(Also I really like Tamika’s character, but I want to portray how hard it is to manage, I don’t know, an armed militia at a young age. So if I seem down on her, that’s why.)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. The fridge leads to freedom P3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>You know the drill.</p>
<p>Wow.<br/>This is....<br/>Not very good.<br/>But, look, I’m trying.<br/>Thank you for giving me kudos ErinPtah<br/>Thank you for becoming my vague (yet menacing?! :) ) internet friend F4.<br/>Here goes.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Whoa. The room was spinning. And Janice (?!) was here? And the fried Strex lady. His brain was foggy at best, and he felt like… he was dying. Not in the way that we are constantly dying, living in denial, no, this was the marking of being on death’s door. And, Cecil’s eyes were a strange mix of purple and black. That was most likely a good thing. Most likely. He needed to help. But when he tried to rise, he couldn’t. “Close your eyes.” The Strex supervisor said, or ordered. “Hm?” He asked, unable to form the question, let alone articulate it. “The stimuli will wear you out. And your energy, and your life, is currently far more limited then it should be.” She said, clutching at her neck. He decided that closing his eyes was probably a better idea than resistance. “We have twenty minutes.” She said, looking at Janice. </p>
<p>Carlos felt pain. A lot of pain. And he felt an exhaustion, like nothing he had felt before (even after he had stayed up for six and a half days). And then he felt the pull on his hands. It burned, despite only being a light touch.</p>
<p> “This is going to hurt him.” The lady said. A sharp inhale. He felt movement. But he was like a dead body, the woman probably couldn’t do anything in her state, Janice couldn’t and Cecil was very malnourished and also injured. </p>
<p>He heard the conversation between the lady and Janice. “We’re running out of time.” Janice said. “Well. There is one way I know of, for how to help Carlos. But it isn’t pretty.” She said, and then wincing. “I have slightly less than 20 until you can’t trust me anymore.” She added, placing her hand on Janice’s shoulder. “Do you think that we’ll survive the reset?” Janice asked, trying to ignore everything that was wrong. Like the woman’s smile, her Uncle’s eyes, the scars on Carlos. “Probably. I’m Lin, by the way.” The woman said, and for a second, sincerity flickered with her smile. “Do it.” Janice said. </p>
<p>It took Lin three minutes and twelve seconds exactly to do the reset. Carlos felt.. fricking energy. He felt… alive. Other than the really, really, really strong and disturbing desire for productivity, he was fine. He opened his eyes cautiously.</p>
<p>He opened his eyes to see the exact moment that the black once again eclipsed in Cecil’s eyes.</p>
<p>Janice looked really relieved when he stood up. He ran over to her, and whispered, hoping she would understand and she could hold it together.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry. Cecil isn’t Cecil anymore. He probably won’t remember you, and we’re going to have and issue getting him out.” </p>
<p>She nodded. Her eyes were glistening, but firm. He had to tread very, very carefully with what he said next. Considering he was barely resisting the pull of StrexCorp, he couldn’t (and didn’t want to try to) understand what that had done to Cecil. </p>
<p>The woman (from his memory Lin, but he wasn’t sure if he would ever trust his memory again) was shaking. “Fire hole.” She said. There was a vent on the roof that had been for dropping fire on prisoners, but now weren’t used. “Tamika sent me this thing:</p>
<p>6-9-18-5 7-15-12-5</p>
<p>And I think it’s probably just A=1 code. It translates to fire hole. She must have seen that on the footage I sent her… Smart.” Carlos blinked, surprised that the seemingly ominous and stupid supervisor was an insider. “Right. How long do you think we have left?” He asked. “Four minutes.” She said sadly. </p>
<p>He approached Cecil, the Cecil who had only been made over the past while, the Cecil who was the closest person to him, and also almost a complete stranger. “There’s a StrexCorp fire drill on today!” He chirped, hoping that Cecil would miss the lie in his voice. “Of course!” Cecil said, with a tone of uncertainty, and a tone of fear in his voice. “So you have to come with us up into the vent!” Carlos added. “Who is that other employee? Why didn’t StrexCorp fixed her?” Janice flinched. “She is.. new.” Carlos said, wanting to cry, and scream. For all of the screwed-up things Cecil had said in here, this was the worst. He felt a sea of emotion, especially regret and was dangerously close to drowning in it. He had worried about Janice not being able to hold it together. It was him he should, have been worried about.</p>
<p>It had been hard, but they got Janice up there. Cecil’s eerie, drug-fuelled strength was part of it. The fire hole was a massive vent system, so she could wheel around up there. Cecil looked more uncertain by the second. But the three of them were up. </p>
<p>But, Lin, Lin was not.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>:)<br/>...............<br/>Be confused.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. The fridge leads to freedom P4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Oh.<br/>I’m sorry.<br/>I just realised that my work is... almost devoid of emotion.<br/>So far off from where it started.<br/>So I wanted to make you feel something, from indignant rage, to a light sadness to a pinprick of emotion that you can’t quite place.<br/>Poor, poor Janice.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Janice wished that she wasn’t doing this. No, she wished that she didn’t have to do this. She was waiting for Lin. “Lin?” She yelled. “People are coming, quickly, come on!” Lin shook her head. “I am about to become a StrexDrone, possibly forever. And I won’t risk you. And I won’t stand for this.” She picked up one of the shards of glass that had come from the broken machine. Her hand shook as she pricked her finger on it, first, and then she rose it, slowly, to her neck. She was crying. “Lin!” Janice yelled, needing to help, to fix, to- to- to do anything. </p>
<p>“Don’t just give up! None of this heroic, self-sacrificing bullshit!” She yelled, hoping that extended eloquence or swearing would make her listen. </p>
<p>Anything to make her listen.</p>
<p>“Bye.” She said. Then she whimpered. Then she screamed. </p>
<p>Janice realised that Lin had ran out of time. The smile snapped up.</p>
<p>But.</p>
<p>“You shouldn’t end up like me.” Lauren rasped, before pulling the trigger. </p>
<p>The trigger on the gun she had.</p>
<p>For the rest of her life, Janice would wonder how, how it was possible for someone to die so fast. Just gone. </p>
<p>“Lin!”</p>
<p>Lin fell, crashed. But, Janice saw the transformation at the very end. Her smile into her signature smirk. In the future, Janice would try to rationalise it, her death. Try to make it seem better than it was. Try to make it seem better. </p>
<p>But Lin, bleeding out in front of the snapped Lauren, died satisfied. </p>
<p>Carlos slammed the grate, and he started to pull them both, towards the light.<br/>Towards Tamika Flynn. Towards the hjacked truck he had spotted. </p>
<p>They were escaping.<br/>But they had left someone behind.</p>
<p>Lin.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I’m slightly regretful for killing Lin.<br/>Slightly.<br/>~sigh~<br/>RIP.<br/>Also, poor Janice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(PS: F4, I’m blaming you for the fact that this came out and looks and sounds, at some points like bad poetry. Thank you. This must be getting creepy. I need to dial it down a bit.)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. The fridge leads to freedom P5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here is where the title comes into play.<br/>Thank you.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tamika squinted, trying to see if that was them coming through the tunnel. “Tamika!” Carlos, or someone who sounded exactly like Carlos yelled. She guessed that that settled that issue. He ran through the vent, pulling Cecil and occasionally looking to check on Janice who wasn’t far behind. The woman, Lin.. she wasn’t with them. She opened her mouth, wanting to ask hundreds of questions. He shook his head. She realised that something was off here. She also realised that it would be a really bad idea to push. She gestured for them to hurry up. There was yelling, screaming behind them. Was that Lin? Tamika didn’t know. The shadows stopped obscuring their faces and behind them the grate opened. “RUN!” TAMIKA YELLED. Carlos ran, pulling Cecil. Janice wheeled furiously, her face determined. They got out and she slammed the lid back on the the door. </p><p>The metal groaned under the swarm of StrexDrones. The truck was being driven by Amaru, who claimed to know about that sort of thing. Tamika had been too tired to argue against that. She now wished she had. Too late now to change the plan. The door creaked, the unnatural strength of the blood-drenched, eyeless office workers stretching the doors hinges. “Get in the van!” She urged, helping to secure Janice. “What?” Cecil asked. “The fridge! Get into the fridge in the van.” She commanded. A dangerous edge grew in his voice. “Why would I get in the fridge? It would be a very unproductive thing to do.” He narrowed his eyes. “The fridge leads to freedom, Cecil. The fridge leads to home.” Carlos said. And love must be a miracle, because he climbed into the fridge, no questions asked. Disaster averted. Thank you. She mouthed at him as he climbed into the massive, chilled box as well. She closed the door, and walked towards the front.</p><p>“We could make a trade.” A voice said behind her. She swivelled, to find that it was a random StrexDrone. It stood at the front of the group, their smiling, eyeless face pointing right at her. “You for them.” It said. “We would even give them time to escape.” They added. “No.” Tamika said. “Why not? Would you rather lose them?” The being, (she wasn’t sure if it was a he or she or they or neither or even a human) asked, trying to provoke her. “No. We’re all getting out of here.” And she opened the passenger seat door, slamming it on their face, giving them just the right amount of time to close the door and speed away. (Amaru was a horrible driver, but he did get them out of there, Tamika had to give him credit for that.) Soon, they were approaching Night Vale. Beatrice was convinced that there was something wrong with Janice. Tamika just hoped they would all survive. She hoped. </p><p>The car broke down, not too far away from town, very close in fact. But the walk looked endless. When the car broke, Cecil was asleep. Carlos was awake, fiddling with Cecil’s hair, watching him like he would be snatched away. Or maybe he already had been snatched away, his mind shattered to the point of no return, that he would never recover and Carlos knew that and he- “Breathe, Tamika.” Beatrice said, her voice like a lifeline. “Breathe.”</p><p>Carlos tried to tell her something. But Beatrice told him something that made him hold his tongue. She knew she should be angry, to harbour thoughts of resentment for the girl, the woman next to her, but she understood that Beatrice wanted the mission to keep going, and to keep being led by Tamika. She also knew that Beatrice cared for her, and was good at figuring out boiling points. (Of people and other objects, mentally and physically. It was a interesting and occasionally helpful skill.)</p><p>Cecil walked blindly, his eyes closed because Carlos had asked him to, murmuring things about productivity that made Tamika worried. Janice was wheeled by Malcolm across the sand, because it was obvious she was out of spoons. Carlos drooped a bit. Amaru watched their back, using the eye on the back of his head he won in a raffle last year. Tamika led the group. The finally reached the outskirts of town, where there were asphalt roads and pavements made of materials that seemed like cement, but weren’t. The road seemed deserted. What if we were too late? What if the town fell? What if my friends, my family are all StrexDrones now? What if I failed my town? What if- “Breathe Tamika.” Beatrice said, squeezing her arm. “Breathe.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This was... interesting to write.<br/>This is the end of Chap5 even though now it’s Chap9.<br/>Eh.<br/>Thank you.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. I really thought they knew something. Sorry Melony.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The title is a bit of a spoiler.<br/>I wanted something fresh, but only for a little bit.<br/>Anyway.<br/>Thank you.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>SHERIFF’S SECRET POLICE REPORT: MOST FREQUENT UPDATE.<br/>LIN HUAN.<br/>MISSING. <br/>NOT IN TOWN. NOT IN SANDWASTES. MAY BE IN THE LIBRARY, BUT IM NOT CHECKING. DO YOU THINK IM AN IDIOT? </p><p>SHERIFF’S SECRET POLICE REPORT: MORE FREQUENT UPDATE AVAILABLE.<br/>LIN HUAN: ENROLLED IN 17 CLASSES AT NIGHT VALE COMMUNITY COLLEGE. MAY BE A FUTURE DANGEROUS PERSON. MONITOR SITUATION.</p><p>SHERIFF’S SECRET POLICE REPORT: TWO MORE FREQUENT UPDATES AVAILABLE.<br/>LIN HUAN: PASSED ENTRY PROGRAM FOR THE ————— AND THE —————/————— BRANCHES OF THE VAGUE YET MENACING GOVERNMENT AGENCY. NOT ACCEPTED BECAUSE SHE WAS ONLY DOING IT TO PROVE A POINT TO SIMONE RIGADEU AND SHE IS ILLEGIBLE FOR THAT POSITION. PERSON OF INTEREST.</p><p> SHERIFF’S SECRET POLICE REPORT: THREE MORE FREQUENT UPDATES AVAILABLE.<br/>LIN HUAN: OFFICIALLY DECLARED DECEASED LAST WEEK HAS BEEN RESURRECTED BY THE GLOW CLOUD. ALLLLLLL HAAAAIIILLL. REASONS UNKNOWN.</p><p>INFORMATION REDACTED: WE REALISED YOU HACKED OUR SERVER MELONY. STOP DOING THAT. WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT THIS WOMAN’S MOST NOTED PAGE? BUT, LIKE, SERIOUSLY, IM GOING TO HAVE TO TELL THE SHERIFF IF YOU KEEP HACKING OUR INFORMATION. JUST TELL US WHAT AND WHY YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT YOU WANT TO KNOW, AND WHO GOT YOU OR HELPED GET YOU TO THIS POINT SO YOU CAN BOTH BE SUCCESSFULLY RE-EDUCATED SO YOU DONT BOTHER US, AND THWY DONT BOTHER ANYONE ELSE. BUT, LIKE, LAST CHANCE MS PENNINGTON. I MEAN IT MELONY.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Anyone else like it?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. What He Became</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Anyone like it?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It took four days for the reset to wear off.<br/>It took eight days for Melony and Megan to take off Carlos’ collar.<br/>It took fifteen days for Janice to work up the courage to sneak out of the house after being “grounded. For a long time.” <br/>It took twenty three days for people to start visiting Cecil, when Tamika, Beatrice and <br/>Old Woman Josie deemed it safe for him to see people.<br/>It was day twenty six. <br/>Carlos, Carlos seemed like a lost cause. <br/>So they focused on Cecil. <br/>They also didn’t send him to re-education.<br/>Because. Just because.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do you remember me?” The woman asked him, her forehead screwed up in anticipation for a negative answer. “Cecil?” She asked. He sat, staring at the wall. “Hey, Dana, he... he.. he’ll get better.” Beatrice said. She had become the official caretaker person of the Armed Militia. “At least you weren’t here on a StrexCorp day. Those aren’t good days.” Dana had phased in from the Desert Otherworld. “Where’s Carlos?” She asked. “Over in the next room.” She said. “What’s his condition?” “Stable. At least I think so. But no one knew enough about the formula apart from Lin, and she’s gone.” Beatrice felt her fists clench. “I’m sorry, I’m flickering out.” Dana said, as she did exactly that, her form becoming thin. “Keep trying. If I can survive here, and Tamika can run an armed militia, and if Lin could survive with them, you’ll be able to do this.” Dana urged before completely disappearing.</p>
<p>Strex-<br/>No-<br/>Yes-<br/>Carlos-<br/>Who-<br/>It hurts, it hurts-<br/>No-<br/>Strex-<br/>I-<br/>Str-<br/>Have-<br/>S-<br/>To-<br/>Strex-<br/>StrexStrexSTREXSTREXSTREX-<br/>Carlos-<br/>No-</p>
<p>He shook. She looked at him, still wearing the jumpsuit because he refused to take it off. He clutched his head.<br/>“Cecil?” She asked cautiously. “Help!” He yelled, as if she could help fight whatever threat he felt. She touched his arm, hoping he wouldn’t lash out. (He had put Malcolm and Jessie in hospital, because their parents believed in the arcane magic of doctors.) He opened his eyes. And she wanted to cheer, to hug him, to just make Carlos wake up because this was the biggest progress the has had in forever. Hie eyes were back to human-looking eyes. But with purple. His old eyes. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>I-<br/>I see.<br/>I’m not drowning anymore.<br/>I-<br/>I’m here.<br/>Carlos.</p>
<p>He was visibly dazed, and he was still clutching his head. “Cecil?” She asked again. “I- I think that’s me.” He said. “How do you feel?” Beatrice asked, not knowing how to continue, what to say. “I’m not feeling very good.” He quietly, as if he was speaking to himself. “Can I hold your arm?” He asked. “Okay.” She said, lifting her arm towards him. He grabbed it, and he tried to resist the anxiety and fear of the moment, but he just couldn’t, and he started to squeeze. “Cecil.” She warned, feeling bruises already beginning to form. He didn’t stop, shaking and squeezing. “Breathe, Cecil.” She said. He stopped shaking. He looked down at her arm, all red where he had squeezed and white where he did not. “Breathe.” He let go and curled up on the chair. “How long was I drowning for? He asked. “A bit over three weeks.” Beatrice said. “What was I like?” He asked. “You’ll probably remember soon. Just be kind to yourself. That wasn’t you.” She realised that his fingernails had made little incisions on his head. She got the disinfectant and bandaids. She started to clean the wounds, tiny and bleeding. He didn’t even flinch. “Is there anyone you want to see?” She asked. “My memory is a bit fuzzy, so not now.” He said, and she could tell that he was trying to sound composed. He didn’t sound composed. “Well, we can start here. I’m Beatrice. This will take a while. You will have days where you lose all your progress. You will have days where your memory will overwhelm you. But I promise we’ll get you out of here.” He looked up. “I would like that. I would like that very much.” </p>
<p>Carlos.<br/>Carlos.<br/>Carlos.<br/>Why did he keep thinking that name over and over?<br/>What was Beatrice hiding from him?<br/>He wished he could just remember.<br/>Why?</p>
<p>Old Woman Josie came in. He felt something stir inside him. When he looked at her, he knew. He knew her name. Her past (more than it should be possible for him to know). Her as part of a they. He understood, finally, instead of constant confusion.</p>
<p>Dana phased in. It was in the middle of the night. She had apologised when she realised that he was awake. She had wanted to see him, see him when he wasn’t gone or a mindless StrexDrone. But he had felt. And remembered. “Dana?” He asked. “Cecil?!” She asked, and despite the slight obscuring of her features, he was sure he saw tears. “Are you...” she trailed off, not knowing what to say. No one really knew what to say to him anymore. “I’m not great. I mean, I had no access to memories of you until this very moment, but I- I’m Cecil.” He hoped she understood. “I’m so happy you’re getting better.” She said. But then something happened over in the Desert Otherworld and she disappeared. It made him realise how alone he was. </p>
<p>“How is he?” She asked. “He is fine.” The Faceless Old Woman replied, tugging at the peeling skin on her neck from sunburn. She winced. “Is Carlos getting better? Or not.” She demanded. “I checked. He’s recovering. But.” She said. “But what?” Beatrice asked. But she was already gone.</p>
<p>He was having a bad day. And then he wanted to get out of the room. Out. But there were only two doors. One of which he suspected led outside because it had a lock on it, but the key was underneath the nutmeg veins. He opened the door. </p>
<p>It didn’t lead outside.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Anyone?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. How to finish a damn revolution P1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is a mishmash of perspectives.<br/>And I really like the end.<br/>Yeah.<br/>Wow, I’ve posted a fair chunk.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The room was cold. Dark. He could hear breathing. He was scared. He noticed all of these things at once. “Hello Cecil.” A quiet voice said, one he vaguely remembered. “You don’t remember me yet. You don’t remember a lot of things. A lot of very important things, Cecil.” Breath grazed the back of his neck. “Also, in the future, you will struggle to remember other important things. I should know.” A name, a name for this entity (?) flickered in his brain. “Faceless Old Woman?” He asked. “Hello Cecil.” She repeated. “This room isn’t for you. Not for your eyes.” He felt something cutting his forearm. “Who is in here?” He asked, trying to sound like he wasn’t afraid. “If you can’t remember him, you can’t see him. (Which wasn’t exactly fair, but she didn’t care.) The thing that was cutting him dug deeper. “Get out of this room. Or he might get hurt. And trust me, you wouldn’t want that.” He backed away, not knowing much, but knowing that she was not the type to fling around empty threats.</p><p>Carlos was going to recover. The Faceless Old Woman knew that, from her perspective, standing outside of time she could see the future. Or, at least the most likely future for this universe. Sort of. It was too complicated to explain to anyone who wasn’t a fellow immortal. Cecil was most likely to recover. She knew some of his most likely future as well. Sort of. And you probably weren’t the type who would be allowed to know her secrets, so you won’t find them out here. She touched Carlos’ handsome face, her fingers graceful and tinted with a slight sheen of malice. “It would be helpful if you would be awake. But then again, my drugging of you will probably dramatically speed up your recovery. Probably.” She heard the click of the lock. The jingle of keys being stuffed into a pocket. “But then again, you will wake up, in say.... forty-five seconds, give or take, so, good luck Carlos.” She disappeared. </p><p>Tamika was coming to the house, Beatrice’s house specifically, where they had set up this.. rehabilitation base? Beatrice’s parents were missing, had been for eleven months now, so they had a fair bit of space. She went into Carlos’ room, wishing that he could see the progress Cecil was supposedly making. She slid in through the back entrance, turned on the lights. “Tamika?” Someone whispered. In the light, she could see him, lying there, squinting at her. “Carlos?” She asked. “I’m awake. Sorry.” He whispered. “I’m glad you’re alive.” She said, hoping Cecil hadn’t heard them. </p><p>Cecil hadn’t heard them. He was meeting with Janice. She had came to see him before, but all he had done was spouted some crap about meadows. She didn’t want to meet his gaze. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to meet her’s. “Hi Uncle Cecil.” She said quietly. The whole, (horrible) rescue kept replaying in her mind. The line, “Who is that other employee? Why didn’t StrexCorp fix her?”. She wanted to tell herself, promise herself that that wasn’t his fault, that that was just a StrexCorp line, but she couldn’t. “Hi Janice.” He said. And it was too much, too soon. Their relationship was broken. She couldn’t take this, as well as Lin, her mother’s anguish, the harassment from Tamika and the rest. She said, “I’m going now.” She began to wheel herself away. “Wait. I- I’m really sorry. Not just for what I said, but for it all.” She nodded, a slight, quivering thing. “Okay.” For him, she had triggered an avalanche of memories to be available. Usually that was a good thing. This time it was not. </p><p>“I know best. I’m the leader of this militia, Beatrice.”<br/>
“Back off Tamika.”<br/>
“What?”<br/>
“You have made me handle this alone. You have made me try to save two people who I barely know, one of which has tried to kill me twice.”<br/>
“Beatric-”<br/>
“Don’t Beatrice me Tamika. This is my place, not yours. Back off.”<br/>
“I’m the leader for a reason-”<br/>
“If you are going to make Janice get traumatised, Carlos get.... whatever happened to him, Cecil get programmed or shattered or brainwashed or whatever the hell you want to call it, then back off and let me handle this.”<br/>
“I-“<br/>
“That’s what I thought.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Any suggestions?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. How to finish a damn revolution P2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Some Carlos for you 37 guys!<br/>Yep.<br/>I’m trying.<br/>I really am.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Can you sit up?”<br/>Carlos didn’t know. He had woken up from his weird coma-thing (?) and his mind was buzzing with ideas. His body was still recovering, and really taking it’s time. He couldn’t speak over a whisper, and he didn’t like whispering. But, today he had a strange resolve. He used the side bars to pull himself up. He was finally sitting up, his spine crackling in annoyance that he had been in that same position for so long. He had the same attitude as his spine. <br/>“Okay. Um, I’m going to get you some water.”<br/>Carlos suspected that she was overwhelmed, and didn’t was to deal with this. Beatrice had been in the room with him since his brief moment with Tamika. She had dashed out, and a while later (two minutes? twenty minutes? He had no idea of time, even less than he had had before.) she had come back with Beatrice, mumbling something like, ‘if you’re going to be difficult then do something difficult’ and ‘I can’t believe you would say that’. And now there were here. He shuddered as his mind sent another wave of memories at him, or more, flashing, repeating, vivid images. Was this his punishment for starting this mess? For what had happened out... there? One of the more recurring ones appeared, the scream and the smile of Lin. Before she died. Before she was murdered. But that scream, then that smile. Over. And over. And over. And over. And over. And over. And over. And over. And over.<br/>“Hey? Carlos? You’re here. Not there.” <br/>Beatrice had a soothing effect on people. It was helpful here. He was still there, watching those seconds, but he was also not. He was also right here. He knew that Cecil was in the room next to him. He wished he could see him. But he wasn’t in the best state himself, and despite Cecil seeming.. okay, from what he could hear and had heard, he didn’t sound.. good. But at least he was more Cecil than Strex Cecil, as far as he could tell. But he didn’t trust any of himself, his body, his judgment, his memory, none of it. Not anymore. <br/>“It’ll be ok- It might not be okay. Not for a long time. But I promise you it will get better. If you can wake up, and Cecil can “wake up” and Lin can pull of what she did, then things should get better.”<br/>Carlos disagreed. His awakening had probably had something to do with the Faceless Old Woman, Lin was dead now, and Cecil, Cecil had always been a miracle. None of that guaranteed a better future.<br/>“I can bring him in today. Old Woman Josie and Dana said he seemed better than usual.”<br/>Carlos was snapped out of his thoughts from that. He nodded, his nod rather pathetic, but at least he could. <br/>And then, in typical Night Vale style, there was a bloodcurdling scream from Cecil in the other room.<br/>Oh no.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I liked it.<br/>I need to get a life and stop writing.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. How to finish a damn revolution P3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Suspense!</p><p>Mainly from Cecil’s perspective.<br/>Thank you to the 40 people who have clicked on this!</p><p>ErinPtah, I am almost done.<br/>I think.<br/>It might get longer, but probably not.<br/>Almost.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>While Carlos did stuff, this was what happened next door.<br/>
He had been visited by so many people. Some of which, he still couldn’t remember. Most of which he could. He had had (apparently, he didn’t remember) two ‘relapses’ into Strex programming. Today was day fifty-three. And today, he was going to leave the house for the first time in a while. And he felt... normal. Weighed down by regret and all the holes that were still in his memory. And the constant, slight resistance that he had to pull every day, he was determined to never slip back into StrexCorp’s horrid clutches. Never. And then, of course, there was the massive gap in his memory and headspace, that everyone seemingly knew the answer to, but just wouldn’t tell him. The hazy form of Dana, a few Erikas (Old Woman Josie was sick today), Steve (who he wished he couldn’t remember) and Abby, Michelle (who had snuck in and no one had the patience to get her out, a bored looking Intern Maureen, and Tamika Flynn all watched him. It was really creepy, but also standard for an accomplishment like this. He wondered how they all fit into the room. (He later found out why, but because that’s in the future, it would make little sense for the narrator to tell you it here. It would also make no sense for the narrator to go off on a strange tangent. Like this one, for example.) </p><p>“Cecil?” Tamika asked. “Mm?” “You ready?” He wasn’t ready. What if I snap? What if I become an abomination to the community? What if I can’t hold it together? He nodded. “Okay.” She said. He took the walk towards the door (not the one he usually could see, the one that was hidden inside a painting of a rotting corpse of a dog, with the mouth stretched to hideous dimensions. Typical modern contemporary art, you know?) And then, of course, because something has to go wrong, or at least strangely, the (most likely illegal, but unused) computer switched on. “If you’re hearing this, either Fey, or Melony is annoyed at me, or I’m dead. Well, not really, but those are the two most likely possibilities.” “Is that..” Tamika began, but she was interrupted by the voice. “In the case that I am dead, I recorded this in the old technical bleeding booth. It’s horrible in here, but no one uses it, so I should have some time.” “Okay. Who’s playing this? I don’t think that this will be very good for us so can someone turn it off? Who even turned this on?!” She sounded worried and desperate. “I need to tell the people of the future a billion things. But I only have a few minutes before someone finds me, so I’ll make it quick. First, I’m sorry. I’m assuming you’ve all found my one worst crime by now. I’m so so sorry.” Everyone was staring at the screen, where there was no image, but it was comforting to fix your gaze on a steady object. </p><p>“Second, I need you to know that Carlos will recover. Even if you are so far into the future that you have no idea what I mean or who I, who we were, I just hope that someone of the more recent future finds this. I checked the calculations. He will never be as... energetic, but he’ll live.” That snagged Cecil’s attention. Carlos. The same name he kept thinking over and over.<br/>
“Thirdly, if anyone who I.. who I-<br/>
If anyone who I hurt, or who was part of projects, Y4O, P2-FA, UV41, L057 or some others I did, I’m sorry. So so sorry. But, in case it is helpful, Onism. Onism guys.” There was scuffling, and muffled yells in the background before it cut out. But Cecil didn’t notice any of that. He was too busy imploding. </p><p>There was his life, what he knew of it before a few months ago. All of the information returned to his mind with a brutal snap. He was screaming. And then, he was deposited with a perfect memory of every single thing that had happened back at the Centre. Every thing that happened. </p><p>“Cecil?” He couldn’t hear her. He was drowning, but this time in awareness, rather than the stupor he had been in.<br/>
“Where is Beatrice when you need her?” Tamika groaned.<br/>
“What the actual hell?” Abby said, kicking the wall.<br/>
“Hi.”<br/>
The whisper was familiar.<br/>
“What are you doing here?” Tamika.<br/>
“Are you okay?”<br/>
“Can you help us out with this? One of you?”<br/>
“Yeah. I’ll try.” The whispering again.<br/>
“I mean, I’m a witch, so, I guess?” Beatrice.<br/>
“What?”<br/>
“Yeah, what?”<br/>
“You didn’t know Tamika?”<br/>
“No!”<br/>
“Okay. Let’s just do this and finish this damn revolution.” The whisperer.<br/>
“Okay Carlos.”</p><p>Carlos-</p><p>“Hi Cecil.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So.<br/>Some things coming up:</p><p>Some fresh Beatrice (am I overdoing her character?)<br/>Some Janice<br/>Some Tamika<br/>Some Mishmash.</p><p>Thank you.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Things she did.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Beatrice.<br/>Is there more to say?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Beatrice was a witch. It was a fairly rare thing to be in Night Vale, despite all the things that would also seem unlikely to be there. She was generally kind. Generally. </p>
<p>“Well.” She said, withdrawing her power from his mind, watching him wince and flinch.<br/>
“Well?” Carlos asked, because he wanted to see if there was anything specific he could do.<br/>
“Give it a try.” She said.<br/>
“Can you help with this?” He gestured to his throat, and she assumed he meant the fact he could only whisper.<br/>
“Thanks.”</p>
<p>She left the room. She took Tamika with her. “Four days.” She said, almost comically conspiratorially. “What?” “I heard Lauren tell him that. He was drugged, and fried, by that woman we all apparently like now. But the point is, she said that StrexCorp is invading Night Vale on a date four days from now.” “How can we believe her?” Tamika asked. “One, why would she lie to Cecil? She never expected him to remember it. And Two, we have no other leads Tamika.” Tamika stared at her, limp red hair, round figure, scarred legs, and said, “Fine.”

She was going to get this team together. And she should probably go check on Janice. She had been missing for a little while now. 

The walls were shadowy. The room was cold. She stood in Janice’s room, wishing she knew where, where she was.

Then Beatrice saw the radio station.
“We can discuss again at a later date.”
It was Station Management, hissing.
“But you’re going to sell it to us?”
Lauren. Why was she back?
“If you come through on your promise.”
“Good doing business with you.”

Dread twisted like coils in her stomach.

She saw a blurry figure.
“Janice?”
“Beatrice?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Light It Up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Light the goddamn things up!</p>
<p>(Thank you F4 for being my only fan other than ErinPtah and some random guests. You have made this fic better.)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Janice was tired of running. Of being scared. So when Beatrice, well-meaning, caring, strange Beatrice approached, she said, “Hi.” She wheeled herself out of the shadow, her face stony, but she was biting her lip. It was one of her tells. When she was trying to hold something down, from anger to fear. Beatrice noted this. “I’m not going to help you, in case that’s what you’re here for.” She said, and she meant it. The adults, the militia, needed to handle this. Not that she couldn’t help, but- Lin, Lin, Lin. That was what happened when she had tried to help.<br/>
That.<br/>
She sighed, knowing perfectly well that she had been holding her breath, just trying to deny it, like the denial would change anything. Like it could change anything. “I’m not here for that. Not that specifically, at least.” Beatrice said, stepping slightly closer. “Explain.” Janice said, and she realised that she wanted to help. She just... didn’t want to be the cause of any other dead guys. (Or people, but Janice used that term as a non-gendered word in her head.) “It was my fault that Lin died. My fault alone.” She said, her eyes shiny, with tears or anger, Janice didn’t actually know. Beatrice was silent. “So you think so too.” She said, her voice not one of anger, more one of quiet resignation. Beatrice’s heart broke at that, the void where Janice’s fight should have been. “No. I don’t. I just want to tell you that Uncle Carlos is awake and I can get you to see him.” Janice looked up. She stood there because she wasn’t into the asshole move of walking away just to push her point. “I’m in.” Janice said, with just enough vigour to make Beatrice smile.</p>
<p>“Where is he?” She asked. “I told you not specifically, not not at all.” Beatrice said, looking slightly regretful. “Well then what are we doing here?” “We’re going to blow up this distribution centre.” “What?! No.” She said, her glare piercing and merciless. “If we don’t, they’re going to take over the flow of money in Night Vale. And the economic base of Night Vale is The Last Bank Of Night Vale. Where all employees will have to go there to help set up for the next conference on what things count as currency. And Tamika won’t try to save them.” </p>
<p>“Dad.” Janice said, her eyes hardening with resolve. She would be failing her community, her family if she didn’t try. She had to do something. Something against this- this abomination that had already hurt those she loved. That had already hurt her.</p>
<p>“Let’s blow this thing up.”</p>
<p>“One question, how the hell are we going to do that?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Woooh.<br/>Something big is coming.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Potential. Future potential.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Fluffy. Yeah.<br/>Some Carlos (I’m hoping you can guess when that happens, a lot of Cecil.<br/>Yeah.<br/>I like it.<br/>This Chap nice.</p><p>Also, screw what I said earlier. Tamika is next.<br/>Or, idk?<br/>Eh.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Memory hurt. It was really annoying when his memory was riddled with holes, but this, this was just painful. He couldn’t see (his eyes were closed, so that was probably why, but then again, he didn’t know his eyes were closed) and he was drowning. But a new type of drowning. Drowning in knowledge. </p><p>Radi-<br/>
Cassett-<br/>
Khos-<br/>
Bow-<br/>
Da-</p><p>“Cecil.”</p><p>Dog-<br/>
Dese-<br/>
Voi-<br/>
Arb-</p><p>“I’m sorry I took so long.”</p><p>I-<br/>
Str-<br/>
Janic-<br/>
Ear-<br/>
Weathe-</p><p>Carlos.</p><p>.</p><p>He opened his eyes, tears streaming down his face, and Carlos smiled. </p><p>Nothing is ever fixed. (And that’s okay.) Fixing only works if things are broken. And it you don’t want those things to be broken. And people are always better broken. </p><p>“I’m a little out of words here.” Carlos said, looking at his partner. The room was weary, almost. Everyone was tired of the drama of this, not angry. And then everyone realised what happened. “Cecil!” Dana cried, blipping towards him. “I knew you could do it.” He sat there, still blinking, tears but no sound, and his fingers brushed against Carlos’ until they interlace,  and they are both there, there and they aren’t going anywhere, at least not yet. </p><p>“Love you brother.” Abby said almost gruffly, the layer of ice in her voice gone nowhere, but there was actual love, and worry, and potential in her voice as well. “I told Steve to go look for Janice.” She said. “I knew you probably wouldn’t want to see him.” He nodded, not wanting to say anything because he knew if he started crying, screaming properly now, there was a chance that he wouldn’t stop.</p><p>“You did good kid.” An Erika said, their seven cheekbones gleaming in the light. “You did good.”<br/>
But according to what he knew of himself, he hadn’t done good. He didn’t even deserve to be here. He had almost been right. He was an abomination to his community. He didn’t need to become one.</p><p>A kid, nervous and wary came up to him. “Hi.” He looked closer. It was the child he had hurt. No, one of the children. Children How dare he, how dare he be here, how dare he have people who love him. He felt a slight squeeze of his hand. Carlos was here. They had made it. And he deserved this love.<br/>
Surely.<br/>
Maybe.<br/>
Probably not.<br/>
No.<br/>
He didn’t.<br/>
“Um, sir, Tamika is doing some sneaky stuff with Beatrice and Janice, but she told me to tell you she said “Good for you.”.”<br/>
Janice?</p><p>“I’m going to find my daughter now. I heard that she’s back with Tamika. Look what happened last time she went off with her.”</p><p>“I shouldn’t have said that.” The kid said, shuffling away.</p><p>“Um, like I’m going to go. And...”<br/>
“Yeah, so am I. I guess.”<br/>
“We’re going off, not together, that’s so popular.”<br/>
“Just going home.”<br/>
“Yeah, so like, good luck?”<br/>
“Yeah.”<br/>
Michelle and Maureen left, waking in opposite directions, but there was a nice sense of something. Not large, or too noticeable, just something.</p><p>And then everyone left, slowly, but surely. Cecil leaned into Carlos, his body heaving and shuddering. Carlos didn’t tell him that it was okay, because he wasn’t one for unnecessary lies, or tell him to stop crying, because it made a lot of scientific sense and human sense for this situation. He wrapped his arm cautiously around Cecil, touching gently and feeling the slight nod in consent. Carlos crying would be later. His throat felt strange, but it had for ages after Beatrice had done her (literal) magic. </p><p>“I-”  </p><p>Carlos began, but he realised that he had no idea what to say. He hadn’t been lying when he said ‘A little out of words here.’ He didn’t know any good Night Vale ways to deal with this. And he was pretty sure that this required Night Vale reactions. He knew a few sayings, but he could only remember two, which were ‘The cat only comes out when it rains, but not acid rain, because then it hunts the humans in it’s home.’ and ‘The Cactus with the Faded Shirt will stand in the ashes of the fallen.’. And he was ninety percent sure that these had nothing to do with the situation at hand, but hey, they could mean literally anything. </p><p>Anything.</p><p> </p><p>“I love you, okay?” Cecil said, finally meeting his eyes second attempt, first time flinching away from the eye contact. “I promise that no matter what I’ve done, I love you. I’m so so sorry.” Carlos winced. “This wasn’t your fault, this was mine.” He said. “No. I did this, look at where we are now.” “No. No, Cecil, I did this. My stupid, my naivety in the Desert Otherworld, that was what did this. It was all my- my stupid, stupid self's fault.” Cecil wrapped his arm around Carlos now, squeezing enough to try to show attempts at comforting. “It wasn’t our fault. This shouldn’t happen to people.” Cecil said, like those meaningless words could stop guilt from killing him, piece by piece. “Okay. That’s a reasonable and scientific way to think about things. Okay.” Carlos said, but looking rather unconvinced. “I can blame myself, and you can blame yourself, but it would make more sense if we didn’t do that.” Cecil said, still wanting to make his precious Cecil understand it was his fault. But he said, “It would. And, Cecil, I love you too.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Anyone agree?</p><p>Also, the lines <br/>“I’m a little out of words here.”<br/>And <br/>‘The cat only comes out when it rains, but not acid rain, because then it hunts the humans in it’s home.’<br/>And<br/> ‘The Cactus with the Faded Shirt will stand in the ashes of the fallen.’<br/>Credits to Kittymagic, Winterdaisi and Llamahead.<br/>None of these guys have Ao3 accounts. But if there are accounts with those names, cool.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Other Semi/Non-Corporeal Beings.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Oh my.</p><p>This either wins or burns.</p><p>Hmm.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“This is a bad idea.”<br/>Got any better ones?<br/>Or, at least that’s what Tamika wanted to say. But that would start another fight, and Tamika didn’t want to fight with Beatrice in front of Tamika. Hell, she didn’t want to fight with Beatrice at all. She missed their casual friendship. <br/>“I know.”<br/>So she said that instead. <br/>“What if it says no?” Janice asked, fiddling with her shirt, eyes focused on the building. <br/>“I hope the Glow Cloud (Aaaaallllllllllllllllll Haaaaaaaaiiiiiilllll) will have mercy on us.”<br/>“Yeah, let’s hope.”<br/>“Beatrice.” Tamika sighed, exasperated with her friends sarcasm.</p><p>It said no. Or, not specifically no, just dropped a few cows in front of them and showed them horrid nightmare visions.<br/>“This was a bad idea.”<br/>“I know.”<br/>Tamika walked through Night Vale, splattered with blood. People steered clear of her, and she liked that, that she didn’t have to push through a crowd. </p><p>“Surely there are other semi or non-corporeal beings in Night Vale.” Janice mused, waving at the government representative in the bush.<br/>“Surely...”<br/>“Yes there are.”<br/>It was the vague outline of a person. Hazy. <br/>“Are you in the Desert Otherworld? Like Dana?” Beatrice asked, curious.<br/>“No, I’m Deb, the sentient patch of haze. And I can help you.” The figure said.<br/>“How and why would you do that?”<br/>“I can still do things. I also will lose the latest company deal I got, Whole Foods, if they have to deal with StrexCorp, who they say are “morally wrong, because we have never done anything unethical. Ever.” Such a disappointing, human attitude.”<br/>“Can you.. say, put a bomb in an engine?” Tamika asked, only slightly worried about disclosing the plan to a random being.<br/>“Would it slow those morta- no, I mean people down?”<br/>“Yes.” She was 98% sure of it.<br/>“When?”<br/>“Soon.”<br/>“Say the word, and it’s done.”<br/>Then Deb disappeared.</p><p>“This is a bad idea.”<br/>“I know. But stop telling me! Screw off!”<br/>Tamika’s rage boiled over. <br/>“Okay.”<br/>Then Beatrice just fricking disappeared.<br/>“Just us two now I guess.” She said to Janice.<br/>“Yeah.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yeah.<br/>Anyway.<br/>This was not very good, but, readable.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. The Penultimate</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This sucks.<br/>And it’s practically the end.<br/>But there’s one more.<br/>Anyway.<br/>Thank you, 47 people!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So you want to look through my mind to see what StrexCorp programming looks like.” Cecil said, clearly not impressed by this turn of events. <br/>“Yep.” Beatrice said. <br/>“How will you do that?” Carlos asked, still holding Cecil’s hand.<br/>“Sorcery.”<br/>“Right.”<br/>Cecil personally thought that sorcery was neat, but he had literally just lives through all those memories. And he thought that it would be a bad idea to let anyone screw with his memory just yet. (He couldn’t stop his employment and other superiors forever, but he could have some time to process the horrid mess of truths his mind now had access to.)</p>
<p>“Okay, are you in position?” Tamika asked. <br/>“No.” Janice said, her tone scarily dead-sounding.<br/>“Janice? Janice, are you okay?”<br/>Silence from her end of the line. <br/>“Okay, I put it down. It will explode in a few minutes.” Deb’s thick accent hurt her ears as she asked again, <br/>“Janice? Janice?!”<br/>“What the hell, kid.” Deb whisper-yelled.<br/>“What the hell... you know what, do what you want. I’ve dealt with so many shitty ad dealers, in their communes with all the toenails, this’ll be fine. Whatever.”<br/>Tamika didn’t care about that though.<br/>“Janice!”<br/>“Janice?!”<br/>“A life for a life.”<br/>Lauren. Oh no. This... this was bad. </p>
<p>Beatrice put her phone in speaker.<br/>Hey, at least she didn’t have to pick through Cecil’s brain.<br/>“S-she to-took Janice!” Tamika said, her voice obscured by gasps. <br/>“What?” The three of them said in accidental unison.<br/>“I tol-told her t-to look at the building from afar, and...”<br/>“What do you mean, and?” Cecil asked. He wasn’t letting her go. Never again.<br/>“Hi boys.” A cool voice ran out alone the line. <br/>“I can hear you.” She said, something cracking in the background.<br/>“Let her go.” Cecil said. <br/>“Wouldn’t you be one to talk, Mr Palmer? You’re so close to being a StrexDrone yourself. We would pull you back under if you try to even come close.”<br/>He flinched, squeezing Carlos’ hand to the point of pain. <br/>“We are coming for you.” Tamika said, trying to sound intimidating. She did not.<br/>“Ms Flynn, we will not give out any extra kindness to people who work against productivity. Or their loved ones.”<br/>Her blood chilled. Everyone who loved Janice had worked against StrexCorp in some way. <br/>“We have her right here.”<br/>Beatrice was silently crying, Cecil was bruising Carlos’ hand but he didn’t care.<br/>“Hi.” A small voice said shakily through the phone.<br/>“Janice?” Tamika asked, steeling herself for the worst.<br/>“I love you guys, okay?” She said, very quietly.<br/>“Where are you?” Carlos asked, demanded.<br/>“In the engine room. Next to the bomb.”<br/>She was crying, everyone could hear it, despite their efforts to stop it.<br/>“Is Lauren with you?” Cecil asked, he had an idea.<br/>“Yeah. She’s in a weird dome thing.”<br/>“That might be a problem.” Carlos said.<br/>“What?” Beatrice asked.<br/>“I made that back when I was… there. It absorbs explosions. A force field.”<br/>“Well.”<br/>“It wasn’t my fault!” He said, his voice shrill.</p>
<p>Cecil had to try.<br/>“Let Janice go.” He said, and it wasn’t a loud or angry voice.<br/>“No.” Lauren said, sounding like an obstinate child.<br/>“You don’t want her dead. You’re not a monster.”<br/>“I- I- no.”<br/>“Onism. And I’m not a monster either.”<br/>“Mm..”<br/>“We don’t have to be monsters.”<br/>“Okay.”<br/>“Thank you.”<br/>“This won’t last.”<br/>“I know.”<br/>There was the sound of footsteps.<br/>Running.</p>
<p>It took twenty minutes for them to take back Lauren.<br/>Only twenty. <br/>She wasn’t seen for a while after that.</p>
<p>Janice was pushed into the sand, and told to, “Book it kid.”<br/>She booked it.<br/>Her arms were sore from the wheeling.<br/>She made it.<br/>They made it.</p>
<p>The explosion was beautiful.<br/>From afar, that’s what Carlos meant.<br/>The chemicals exploded into plumes of neon lights.<br/>And the smile on Cecil’s face when Janice returned, even better.<br/>Janice surviving, them surviving, survival.<br/>It was amazing.</p>
<p>Deb really hoped Whole Foods would still want her to do that ad. It had taken a lot of hard work (nah, it hadn’t, but she liked to think it may have felt that way to other beings, so therefore she was entitled to the same exhaustion that those other beings may have felt) to pull that off.</p>
<p>“Thank you.”<br/>“I know.”<br/>“Tamika.”<br/>“Beatrice.”<br/>Beatrice sighed.<br/>“Thank you too.”<br/>“Love you Tamika.”<br/>There was a pause.<br/>“Love you too.”</p>
<p>The lights above Arby’s flashed, almost in a celebratory way, and Cecil liked to think they were flashing for them.<br/>He liked to think that it was something, something the universe had noticed.<br/>Because the impossibility of it all..<br/>It was neat.<br/>Very neat.<br/>“How’s Janice?” Carlos asked.<br/>“Not allowed out of her mother’s sight.”<br/>“Yeah, maybe a good idea.”<br/>“Probably.”<br/>They were out in the Arby’s parking lot, again, their shadows merging together. <br/>“This is nice.”<br/>“Yeah, yeah it is.”<br/>“I love you.”<br/>“I love you too.” Carlos said, his arms warm around Cecil.</p>
<p>The stars pulsed. The void glowed. The world shattered and continued. <br/>The Night Vale they were fighting for.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank all of you for pulling through.<br/>Next time, please disregard the end notes.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Our Bright Skies.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The conclusion.<br/>This ended up far too poetic.<br/>But I think that that’s okay.<br/>I like it.</p>
<p>Thank all 48 of you.<br/>Thank you.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They did it.<br/>Against all odds.<br/>The skies were bright.<br/>The skies were theirs.</p>
<p>His legs hurt.<br/>Specifically, they hurt because he had been walking around for a long time. <br/>The revolution was finally, finally over.<br/>People were cheering.<br/>He was cheering.</p>
<p>You never recover from StrexCorp.<br/>Not fully.<br/>But, it gets better.</p>
<p>Night Vale doesn’t change.<br/>It is still the mess of conspiracies, and lies that it always has been.<br/>Night Vale does take to its newfound freedom like bees take to new summer flowers.</p>
<p>Beatrice kissed Tamika first, for the record.<br/>It was quick, and on the cheek, and Tamika flinched like she had been burned, but, she got the first kiss, of many.<br/>Tamika doesn’t screw with her witchcraft.<br/>Beatrice helps the armed militia.<br/>They help each other.<br/>So few know about this (even a certain radio host was kept in the dark about it), <br/>But those who do, think that they’re a cute couple. </p>
<p>Cecil still feels the pull of his old- his old- programming.<br/>But it is subtle.<br/>Faint.<br/>He sometimes wakes up Carlos when he feels the pull of it increase.<br/>Those moments terrify him.<br/>He has broken to it seven times before.<br/>But after that, he hasn’t broken again.<br/>He feels the drowning, sometimes, and usual Carlos picks up on it, and holds him, their bodies smushed together until he feels the floor is there, and solid.</p>
<p>Melony likes Megan.<br/>Megan generally likes Melony.<br/>They are a good team, the two of them.<br/>They still use the StrexCorp databases occasionally.<br/>Only occasionally.<br/>Definitely.</p>
<p>Tamika doesn’t change much.<br/>Neither does Beatrice.<br/>They continue, not much difference.<br/>But it is nice, knowing that there’s someone waiting for you, slightly impatiently. <br/>Nice to understand that someone cares.<br/>Beatrice has a lot of books, and they spend days in her miniature, forbidden library, reading like tomorrow they won’t be able to, which is quite likely.<br/>The smatter of freckles across Beatrice’s cheeks move when she talks.<br/>Literally, move across her face.<br/>And it’s so pretty.<br/>Tamika has scars all over her hands, and they are brightly coloured.<br/>Lit up by poisons.<br/>Beatrice thinks that of all things she has seen, that is the nicest.<br/>They are going good.</p>
<p>Carlos burns out some days.<br/>His energy is still in constant recovery.<br/>But some days, he is out, and he’ll collapse, and hate himself.<br/>Cecil would lay him out on their bed, and he would lie there until he could do stuff again.<br/>Other days, he can’t or barely can see past the flashbacks that haunt him.<br/>They drown him out.<br/>He is almost unreachable on those days.<br/>Only Cecil, and Beatrice (due to some magic he didn’t understand) could rouse him.<br/>He likes to think that Lin would be happy they made it out.<br/>Happy they survived.</p>
<p>Janice is lonely.<br/>She still hates herself for killing Lin.<br/>And for it all.<br/>But her bridges aren’t burnt with her uncle.<br/>They are friends again.<br/>It is nice.<br/>She still wants to join the armed militia.<br/>Even after that.<br/>That thing.<br/>She is happy.<br/>She has friends.<br/>She likes her life.<br/>She is still lonely.<br/>Lonely, on Lin’s behalf.</p>
<p>The first few days on air, Cecil would fumble.<br/>He had to stop once for a while, because something had happened and he had recited a bunch of StrexCorp propaganda.<br/>He hates it.<br/>He can feel their pull, it’s more insistent then it is when he’s away from it.<br/>They reassured him.<br/>He kept trying until he sounded like he was fine.<br/>Which he is now, on most days.<br/>He comes home to his partner, later his husband. He comes back to them. <br/>He is happy.<br/>Things get better.</p>
<p>Revolution night.<br/>The stars look brighter tonight then most nights.<br/>The hooded figures buzzed with a vigour, their cloaks barely smothering black light.<br/>They have won.<br/>They are free.<br/>They are smiling, and they are real smiles.<br/>People are happy.<br/>Truly happy, after a long time not.</p>
<p>Janice is not lonely anymore.<br/>Well, she is some days, but rarely.<br/>Rarely.<br/>She decided that Lin would want her to be a badass.<br/>That if she was going to do something for her, post-mortem, it would be to live a life she missed.<br/>She wheels herself out of her house one night.<br/>Actually, she does this many times.<br/>The sneaking out.<br/>She sneaks out and watches the beautiful desert.<br/>Her beautiful desert.<br/>Sometimes people join her.<br/>Often they don’t.<br/>She is okay with that.</p>
<p>Dana holds herself well.<br/>Until she can’t.<br/>And then, then she frees herself.<br/>She is proud.<br/>Proud of her town.<br/>Her friends.<br/>Herself.<br/>They did it.</p>
<p>Cecil and Carlos have more scars now.<br/>They had some before.<br/>But now they have others.<br/>They are long and jagged.<br/>They become part of them.</p>
<p>No one has heard from Fey in a long time.</p>
<p>The recording booth is clean now.<br/>They had to wash everything. Even the bloodstones are cleaned.<br/>No one wanted to live in a sea of red.</p>
<p>Lauren.<br/>It wasn’t her fault.</p>
<p>The air is hot.<br/>They sit there, all of them.<br/>Beatrice and Tamika interlace fingers.<br/>Janice chats with some of the members of the armed militia.<br/>Those who were so, so young when they were pulled into the Summer Reading Program.<br/>The husbands watch the sunset, as another anniversary of their survival passes by.<br/>The sun screams.<br/>Malcolm and Amaru stand at the back, like they are watching for danger.<br/>They are watching their home.</p>
<p>So another day comes.<br/>He finishes work.<br/>She finishes school.<br/>He comes home to his family.<br/>She sits in the back of a garden, made of sand.<br/>They are doing things.<br/>Constantly changing, forever changing.</p>
<p>His words ring out, echoing around the desert.<br/>With a hint of love.<br/>A touch of regret.<br/>A reminder of some really strange days.<br/>Grief for those who never made it.<br/>Celebration for those who did.<br/>The feeling of the future, our future, their future, that we aren’t going anywhere.<br/>This is us.<br/>“Goodnight Night Vale.”<br/>“Goodnight.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The notes at the end of this work promise there will be more.<br/>There will not.<br/>This is the end.</p>
<p>ErinPtah, thank you so much.</p>
<p>Thank all of you.</p>
<p>Tell me where I’ve screwed up.</p>
<p>Have a nice day.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks. Well, I suck. Please tell me if I need more tags or it I’ve massively screwed up. I promise there will be more. Anyway.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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